


celestial bodies

by skylarkblue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel study, Character Study, Episode: s04e20 The Rapture, Episode: s08e23 Sacrifice, Episode: s10e09 The Things We Left Behind, Gen, Heaven, The Heavenly Host
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 22:01:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5432360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skylarkblue/pseuds/skylarkblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The host fills up the sky with His light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	celestial bodies

**i.**

They are young. They are very young, glowing in rows, sowing the light and the word amongst His creations. A wing sneaks out and brushes his, feathers aligning, a current going through him. They burn so bright, together. They burn so bright.

Their voices are strong against the darkness that pervades around them. They sing for Him. They sing to spread the word, knowing the sound can be heard through every inch of the universe. _Holy holy holy, our song shall rise to Thee._

Just ahead of him, two rows over, a fledgling - Hael - is burning brighter than any in her garrison. She is full of the light and love on this day of the Lord. It was her who had begun this praise, who sang the hosanna until the host had joined her with joy in their voices. He can feel Balthazar aglow beside him, strong and steady, their wingtips just meeting. It is a comfort.

Anael’s voice is strong, her touch soft as she wanders amongst the garrison, burning bright. Already he misses the contact, the touch of her feathers against his, but her smile stills anything else he may feel. Castiel refocuses and looks up, and thinks of his love for Him.

**ii.**

There is a scream that rocks its way through the host. Castiel turns, drawing his wings close. It comes again, shockingly clear, unlike anything he has ever heard. The fledglings around him are skittering, lights dimming, wings furiously beating.

_Castiel_ , Balthazar calls. _Do you hear it?_

_I hear it, I hear it, I hear it._

It comes again, and there is a shocking shudder of furious noise that moves through Heaven. Castiel knows this sound; it is an Archangel, searching, hunting for the cause. It’s unspoken, but they know they are all wondering the same thing - is this His mighty return? He has been absent for so long, now, not that the Archangels will admit it. Has He vanquished some great evil, brought it up, up, up to the highest reaches to suffer in His presence?

He is mighty, He is fair, He is vengeful. He loves. They knows this - they know He loves.

Once more, there is a scream.

A flash of light that blinds them all.

And then, across the dark sky, visible only for moments, something bright falling to earth, a tail of broken light falling behind it.

Castiel’s grace feels heavy in his chest.

_Anael_ , he murmurs. The fledglings take up their own cry, flittering about anxiously. _Anael. Anael. Anael. Anael._

It is a beating heart across the host, a rhythm they all feel inside, her name, over and over.

_Anael_.

_THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS,_ a furious voice comes above them, across them, through them. _WHEN YOU DOUBT THE LOVE OF OUR LORD GOD._

The voice - the Archangel - continues, long into the dark, dark night. The stars seem to dim around them as his voice fills Heaven, full of fury, full of rage. It is a betrayal to remove one’s grace, to fall as Lucifer did. Stray angels do it, sometimes, fledglings who aren’t cut out, but never someone so powerful. Never Anael.

_ANAEL HAS TORN OUT HER GRACE AND FALLEN TO EARTH._

Castiel’s grace feels as though it is tearing in two.

_THIS IS AN ACT OF GOD._

Castiel does not think God would be so cruel.

_THIS IS AN ACT OF LOVE._

Castiel does not think this feels like love.

_THIS IS AN ACT OF -_

**iii.**

Jimmy sits cross-legged in the dirt, heart pounding in his chest. The slender blonde beside him is giving him a shy, small smile, playing with the hem of her dress so she doesn’t quite have to meet his eyes. It was their first church dance alone, and it had gone so well, but now here they are, the last two kids waiting for their parents tonight.

The sky is clear and dark, full of bright, shining stars. Her eyes drift away from the ground up to them, and he looks up too, taking in the wondrous sight. There seems to be - something, in him, something warm. A dainty hand sneaks out and grabs his, linking their fingers tight. He looks down for just a moment, at the sight of their hands clasped together, and smiles.

“Look!” She says, her voice soft, excited. He looks up to where she points. Something bight is streaking across the night sky, a shooting star. His heart pounds and they both grin.

“Make a wish, Amelia,” he whispers to her. She bites her lip for just a moment before leaning forward and kissing him quickly.

“I already did,” she says. There’s a warm glow in him at the words.

On their wedding day, ten years later, they watch the stars, and see it again, just as bright, just as beautiful. A whole sky full of them. Amelia gasps and and pulls him close, her laughter music to his ears as they stare up at the sky of falling light, yet this time he feels something heavy in his heart, something he can’t place. He shakes it off and smiles, wraps an arm around his wife.

_Be not afraid_ , a voice comes into his head. He pretends not to hear it.

**iv.**

Claire’s voice is full of life, her smile wide as she stands before the church, sings her heart out. “Holy, holy, holy,” her voice seems to fill the room, come above and beyond the choir around her. “Lord God Almighty! Early in the morning our song shall rise to thee!”

Jimmy’s so proud his chest may burst with it, so full of love he is for his girl. Amelia’s grin is wide, too, watching Claire sing up to the heavens with the voice of an angel. The whole congregation is hushed watching the children sing, and Jimmy thinks he sees a woman two rows over wipe a tear from her eye.

A twinge of pain enters his head, and the smile falls from his face. The buzzing begins, softly at first, a high-pitched whine at the back of his skull that becomes so loud it drowns out everything, even Claire, even Amelia right beside him, then the voice breaks through.

_You are a devout man, James Novak,_ the voice says. _You are of God._

As soon as they’re home, Jimmy excuses himself to his study, clenching his shaking hands. The voice returns, calm and steady, running through his head like a river.

_You know what I am, James Novak. I am Castiel._

“Angel of the Lord,” Jimmy finishes in a hushed voice, gripping the back of his chair so hard his knuckles turn white, until his palms her with the force of it. He doesn’t want to believe. He doesn’t want to believe. He doesn’t want to believe.

He believes.

He believes this. Has seen the miracles for himself.

“I’ve been reading up on you,” his voice cracks.

_I have seen._

“Are you real?”

_Yes._

“Am I going mad?”

_At nightfall, walk outside, James. You will see._

He does, as soon as he walks outside. His hands shake, still, but he turns his eyes to the sky. The stars are bright tonight, but his eyes seem to be drawn to one in particular, no matter which way he looks or turns. He keeps coming back to it. One little dot of white in an endless sea of black, glowing in a way that seems to pull at him.

_Now you have seen me._ Castiel almost sounds like he’s laughing. _Soon I will come for you, James Novak._

“You’re a star?” he asks, but the ringing is gone, the voice dissipating into nothing. He stands still for a long, long while, staring up at that one star, wondering if all stars were angels, if Heaven really was above them. His heart feels full again, like he’s witnessed another miracle, and he can’t shake the feeling that something more is coming. Something bigger. Something good - a mission from the Lord himself.

“Jimmy?” Amelia calls from the porch. She seems guarded, watching him like a hawk. He knows she thinks he’s acting erratically. He hasn’t admitted it, yet, the voice. Or the miracles. But he’s so full of joy right now, he feels he must. Jimmy bounds up the stairs, taking both her hands.

“Amelia,” he says. “Do you remember the star we saw? The night we were at the church dance?”

**v.**

It burns.

It burns it burns it burns it burns.

The light consumes.

Chained to a comet.

The - glow - the glow inside him is more than he can contain.

He’s not there.

His eyes open, his voice moves, but they’re not his words. It’s not him.

Green eyes. Not his.

Angel of the Lord.

Pain, in his chest, oh Lord the pain, oh Lord have mercy, Lord save me, Lord give unto me your grace, Lord take me away.

_GOD WILL NOT ANSWER YOUR PRAYER_ , a voice through him, not Castiel, but angelic, full of rage.

_THERE IS NO GOD ANY MORE._

It burns.

**vi.**

The star inside her chest fills her like nothing ever has. It feels natural. They are one.

She fits him better than her father ever did. He knows, at once, she is his vessel. She is the vessel. Every angel has one, a human bound to them for all eternity, a human who carries them with ease. A human who will not crack from the light swarming beneath their heavy flesh.

The small body moves with no restraint, carries the star like it is an extension of herself. Her hands hold his power like they were born to do so.

“Castiel,” Jimmy’s voice is choked, staring at his daughter with something that isn’t quite rage.

He kneels, her tiny body offering no protest. He reaches with her hands, cups her father’s face. He can feel her at the heart of his grace, quiet, observant.

“Of course we keep our promises. Of course you have our gratitude. You served us well. Your work is done. It's time to go home now. Your real home. You'll rest forever in the fields of the Lord. Rest now, Jimmy.” Her voice is sing-song. It is the first time he has called him Jimmy.

“No,” Jimmy begs. His eyes search Castiel’s, looking for some trace of his daughter, but the blue eyes are cold and empty, contain none of his daughter’s warmth. There is something holy burning behind them. “Claire?”

“She's with me now. She's chosen. It's in her blood, as it was in yours.”

“Please, Castiel,” he pleads, his voice full of pain. Blood stains his lips, his shirt. Death will take him soon. “Me. Take me. Take me, please.”

Jimmy Novak is a devout man, a true lamb of god, and yet. He does not want this. He does not want it any more. A year chained to to an angel was too much for him. But he will sacrifice himself for his daughter.

Castiel wonders what it is like to have a father that loves you so.

“I want to make you understand, you won’t die or age. If this last year was painful-” it was, it more than was “- picture a hundred, a thousand more like it.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jimmy growls. “You just take me.”

A warmth glows through Castiel. “As you wish.”

Claire’s hands reach forward again and fill the room with light. When it is over, Castiel is sitting up, pushing away the blonde child before standing. Claire drops to her hands and knees, clutching her chest. She has gone cold without the star burning inside her.

Her mother grabs her and shields her from him.

Castiel shrugs, letting his power surge through his new-old body, bringing the light all through his fingertips and down to his toes. Heaven’s power is renewed within him. Perhaps it is better this way.

**vii.**

_Our Father would not let this happen_ , he thinks, terrified, trapped. Something is breaking inside him he cannot name. The blade is keen, parts his skin easily, almost painlessly. Panic rises within him, fills every nerve with something indescribably sharp.

It slides from him smoothly, like whiskey from a bottle. He bites back a scream, though, because as smooth as it looks, it is still being ripped from him. His wings quiver and sizzle as they burn away, and he convulses, shuddering as the last vestige of his grace is torn from his throat and bottled away.

_NOW GO_ , Metatron’s voice rumbles over him. He can already feel the screams of the host, reverberating around him but no longer within him. A rough hand presses against his head, a light overwhelms him, and he falls.

**viii.**

Claire is sitting on the windowsill, flicking the ash from her cigarette outside, one eye on the door in case one of the staff walks in and catches her. There’d be hell to pay for that. She takes a drag and flicks it away again, a stream of smoke flowing from her lips. It’s a filthy habit, she thinks, bringing it back to her mouth, but the burn down her throat is the closest she’s gotten to feeling possessed again. She exhales slowly, savouring the feeling, one leg dangling down the crumbling brick.

Her roommate snores in the bed across the room, drooling into the pillow.They’ve only been roommates for a week; the girl was brought in by cops last Thursday.  The girl’s young, barely thirteen, and always conks out early. Still, Claire thinks, it is getting late. Sleep probably wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world.

Something catches her eye and she turns away from the door, facing the welcoming darkness outside. A burst of light erupts in the sky, plummeting towards the earth. She frowns; it looks too big to be a falling star, moves too awkwardly through the sky.

_VESSEL,_ a voice screams. She inhales sharply, dropping her cigarette in the grass below and clutching her head as an earth-shattering pain fills it, as the high-pitched whine of a thousand screaming angels fills her. _YOU HAVE BEEN CHOSEN AS A VESSEL FOR AN ANGEL OF THE LORD, SO IT IS THE WILL OF GOD. SAY YES NOW._

“No,” she hisses sharply, because it’s not him, and it’s not what she wants. The pain in her head doesn’t recede, and somewhere, distantly, she thinks she can hear screaming. She looks up, because the sky is full of them, now, lights across the night sky. There’s a soft gasp behind her and her roommate, awoken, comes up to the window to stare out in wonder.

“I’ve never seen a falling star before!” the girl whispers.

“They’re not falling stars,” Claire says. They’re falling angels. She knows it in her heart, in the heart that was once full of grace.

She slides off the windowsill, drops the six feet between it and the ground. There’s nothing, really, left for her in the group home. She brought nothing she wanted with her. Claire takes off at a sprint, not looking back once, fixing her eyes on the nearest light she can see. The ground shakes beneath her feet, as though something is striking the earth over and over and over. There is a sound not unlike a hammer meeting brick that seems to resonate through the earth and into her, leaving the ground quaking and a fiery pit full of white, heavenly light in the distance. She narrows her eyes, squares her shoulders, and runs towards it.

She wants answers.

**ix.**

_I can make you a saint,_ the light pleads. _Hail Saint Novak, hallowed be thy name - does it not ring true to you, little one?_

Claire thinks. “No.”

_JUST SAY YES,_ it screams, desperation clouding it, tainting the white glow with something dark and unholy. Its wings are gone, burned away in the atmosphere. _SAY YES TO ME, YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE BITCH. THIS IS THE WILL OF GOD._

“That line doesn’t work on me,” Claire says. “Where’s Castiel?”

_FUCK CASTIEL,_ it cries, fizzing with rage. The curse sounds even more uncouth from the mouth of an angel. _I HOPE HE’S BURNING IN HELL FOR WHAT HE’S DONE TO US. I HOPE HE BURNS. I HOPE YOU BURN WITH HIM._

“There’s no need to be rude,” Claire shrugs it off. She’s heard worse from foster fathers and social workers alike. “Where’s Castiel, Dina?”

_I DON’T KNOW,_ the angel trembles with rage, before the light seems to freeze, dim for just a moment, and vanish entirely. Claire sighs. Clearly the angel has deluded some poor idiot into saying yes.

Claire cracks her knuckles, stares at the lights still falling from the sky. It’s slowed down, now, just hours after the first impact, but they’re still coming. Still falling fast. She remembers - no, Castiel remembered - long before humanity, when the host was full, and infinite, and able to fill the greatest reaches of Heaven. Looking at the sky now, though, she knows the war he was fighting has taken out too many of their numbers for this to even be a fraction of what the host was. Angels, it would seem, were a dying breed.

She’d be saddened by it if it wasn’t for some part of her that thought the bastards deserved it. “The will of God,” she mumbles to herself. “Yeah, right.”

She knows the angels think there is no God. They’re wrong. She knows this, too, deep down, in some unknowable way. There is a God - undoubtedly so. He just doesn’t care.

**x.**

He barely flinches at the hit, just closes his eyes and takes it, moves with it. Her knuckles ache like she’s just hit a brick wall, but somehow she feels better. She’s forgiven him for a lot, but fuck, that was satisfying.

“You filled me with light,” Claire hisses, “and then tore it away. Do you have any idea what that feels like?”

Castiel brings one hand to his throat, slides his thumb across a thin white sliver of scar tissue at the base. “Yes,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse. “I do.”

 


End file.
